


Another Time, Another Place

by sidewinder



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-12
Updated: 1999-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A master finds his new padawan, but in a universe where things are somewhat different than the one we know...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Time, Another Place

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just this little story.

The Jedi master entered the battle arena, glancing around the  
assembled crowd for a familiar face and somewhere to sit. A  
wave of a dark hand caught his eye, and he smiled as he spotted  
his good friend in the second row of seats surrounding the  
circular stage.

"Thanks for saving me a place," he said to Mace Windu after  
making his way across the room, through mingling Jedi knights  
and young children rushing about and arguing over which of  
their friends would win the competitions today.

"No problem, friend. I heard you were in a meeting with Master  
Yoda and figured you might be late."

He nodded. His former master had asked to see him to discuss  
the finer details of his upcoming mission to Ancona. And,  
unsurprisingly, to once again inquire if he had made a decision  
about choosing a new apprentice yet.

"Not yet, my master."

"Choose soon, you should," Yoda had insisted. "Good master you  
are; good teacher. Benefit from your guidance, many students  
here would."

He had nodded and accepted the compliment, and promised  
sincerely that he would put serious thought to the matter soon.  
His first apprentice, Kawin, had been a remarkable girl, a  
blessing for a young Jedi Knight to have as his first padawan.  
Attentive, bright, supremely modest and strong in the Force,  
she had progressed smoothly through her training with  
relatively few difficulties. Their relationship had been strong  
and a friendship remained, but they rarely crossed paths these  
days. She had chosen a bondmate ten years back, a Jedi she had  
known since childhood and who had never been far from her heart  
since they had first met. They worked together on most missions  
and spent little time on Coruscant since then.

Things had been different with his second apprentice, Crix  
Da'el. Crix had been no less bright or strong, but their  
relationship had been much more...intense. Never  
inappropriately so, but the Jedi knew he had not been the only  
one of them who had entertained such ideas, from time to time.  
Crix was gone from him almost three years now, and a part of  
his heart still ached a little to think upon his loss. Crix  
would have passed the trials by now...if he lived. A damn  
tragic accident no one could have foreseen nor prevented had  
taken his life before that had been possible.

The Jedi master sighed and tried to let go of the feeling of  
sorrow brought to him by the memory. The pain had faded with  
time, with the help of his good friends and with counseling,  
but it never completely left him. Neither did his lingering  
guilt, his feeling that somehow he could have prevented the  
young man's death, no matter how many times others told him  
there was nothing he could have done.

He had imagined that perhaps they could have had a relationship  
beyond that of master and apprentice, after the trials. A  
relationship that could have lead to an even deeper bonding  
between two individuals...but fate--and the Force- -had  
apparently decided otherwise.

To consider taking on another padawan had seemed an unthinkable  
thing for a long time after Crix's death. He had spent as much  
time as possible away from the temple in the months and then  
years that had followed, taking assignments to Outer Rim worlds  
for long periods of time, using the isolation to try to heal  
the wounds inside him. But he knew the training of the next  
generation was part of the duty expected of all Jedi who passed  
into knighthood. The order had to go on; the elders had to  
teach the young. He could not put off taking on another  
apprentice forever. He just waited now for the right one to  
come along, knowing this was not something to be rushed or  
forced.

And so he came to watch the young children today, to observe  
them fight, exhibit their skills in everything from  
hand-to-hand to lightsaber combat. The fights were a frequently  
scheduled event, one that any and all Jedi were invited to  
attend, just like the other demonstrations of temple-instructed  
skills: artistry, Force-manipulation and debate among them.

He watched with muted interest through the various rounds,  
younger children then giving way to the older, more advanced  
students. Truthfully he spent more time chatting with Mace and  
catching up with his old friend than paying attention to the  
battles and the different students. Occasionally he would take  
note of a particularly impressive move made by one of the  
children, or lightly touch upon one's presence in the Force,  
yet none resonated strongly enough with him to make a lasting  
impression or pique his interest.

"Have you decided on a new padawan yet, Mace?" he asked his  
friend as one match finished and the stage was cleared for the  
next. Windu's second apprentice had just recently passed the  
trials.

"Not yet. Perhaps after the New Year--I'd like a little time to  
relax first. Gareth was...a bit of a challenge, as you know."

"Oh yes, so I heard from you many times," he laughed in  
response.

"Yes, well...needless to say I need a little recuperation time  
before taking on another. Though I'm keeping an eye on a few  
students who may be ready soon."

"Xanatos, perhaps?"

Now it was Mace's turn to laugh. "Force, no! Gareth was a  
challenge enough. Besides, you know that child only has eyes  
for you. He's turned down three other offers for masters this  
past year, and don't tell me you don't know it's because he's  
waiting for you to be ready to take him on." Before he could  
comment further, two new combatants stepped into the arena and  
Windu said, "Speak of the Sith, look who's up now."

The Jedi master watched the boy enter the arena and bow before  
the gathered audience. As he rose his head, he cast a look  
toward the Jedi master, a hint of a smile on his lips, a look  
of cool confidence on his face.

Xanatos. The boy he himself had discovered on a mission many  
years past and brought to the temple for Jedi training. He was  
recently turned twelve, ready to be taken into  
apprenticeship--almost past ready. If not chosen by a master by  
the age of thirteen, a Jedi student was reassigned for training  
as a healer or to the agricorps, to use his Force- sensitivity  
as would best serve the Galactic Republic--but not as a Jedi.  
Though honorable positions, few Jedi students actively sought  
such paths, instead striving to be chosen as a padawan and one  
day to become a full knight.

Xanatos had been an exceptional student at the Academy; the  
Jedi master had kept an interested eye on his progress over the  
years, and occasionally met with the boy whenever he was on  
Coruscant and not busy with other matters. If he announced  
officially that he had intentions to take the boy as his new  
padawan, there would be little surprise nor any objections  
raised, he was sure.

Yet he was, for some reason, uncertain. There was something  
about the dark-haired boy that--despite his obvious potential  
and skill--left the Jedi feeling uneasy. It was a feeling that  
had increased over the years, as the child had grown and become  
stronger in the Force...yet remained unable to completely let  
go of his past. Most children were found and brought to the  
academy as infants; it was best that way, usually, for both the  
child and his family. Xanatos had been older, nearly five, when  
he'd been found--almost past the age when he would be  
considered for training. His family had been rich and had  
spoiled Xanatos since infancy. The boy knew it, remembered it,  
and occasionally flaunted his heritage, unwilling to fully  
submit to the idea that a Jedi had no use for wealth and was  
expected to be modest in both demeanor and lifestyle.

A small problem, perhaps--after all, no student was without  
flaws, personality quirks which needed to be corrected or kept  
in check. Yet still...looking into the boy's eyes, he could not  
feel the certainty he had felt looking at Kawin or Crix, that  
this child could successfully be trained as a Jedi, at least  
not by him. When he tried to concentrate on his future and this  
boy's place in it, there was a cloudiness to the visions, a  
dark thread winding through them which disturbed him.

Soon another boy stepped into the ring to face Xanatos. The  
Jedi only vaguely recognized the tall child, for he did not  
spend much time in general around the young students,  
particularly in recent years as he spent most of his time away  
from Coruscant. "Who is Xanatos' opponent in this match?"

Mace answered, "Qui-Gon Jinn. Should be an interesting fight;  
they're two of the best in their age group in lightsaber  
combat."

He studied the boy with some curiosity. Light brown hair framed  
a face that reminded the Jedi master of the large, deadly  
felines of Icaria--strong features softened slightly by an aura  
of unusual serenity. Jinn's expression revealed no clear  
excitement about the fight, none of the sure confidence in  
Xanatos' sparkling blue eyes, the slight grin that was trying  
to escape the boy's lips. There seemed to be a hint of sadness  
about the child Qui-Gon, yet the Jedi was not given a chance to  
focus on it as the bell chimed, announcing the start of the  
match.

Lightsabers flashed to life, Qui-Gon's green blade slicing up  
through the air to meet Xanatos' violet beam immediately. The  
two boys launched into the battle, a match that would last for  
five minutes or until one of the boys was clearly defeated by  
the other. Raised platforms at various heights gave them  
opportunity to showcase their balance and acrobatic abilities,  
and the audience watched in appreciative silence as the two  
boys pursued each other, seeking advantage, searching for their  
opponent's weakness.

It was indeed a curious display to watch. Though young and not  
instructed in the advanced techniques of lightsaber combat yet,  
both children showed unique styles of fighting that illustrated  
rudimentary knowledge of their particular physical strengths.  
Xanatos was fast, sharp, relentless in his attacks, with a  
flair for leaps and spins that were more showy than most Jedi  
would consider appropriate, yet they kept him out of striking  
distance. Qui-Gon attempted to use his height and long reach to  
his advantage, defending and staying clear of Xanatos' blade,  
then switching into an attacking posture and lashing out with  
the power of his larger body. Some of his steps were still  
awkward and he almost tripped several times, but his recovery  
was quick, one time preventing at the last instant a heavy blow  
aimed for his right shoulder that no doubt would have brought  
the match to an early end.

"This Qui-Gon has much potential," the Jedi remarked, quite  
impressed by what he was seeing. There was an innate grace to  
the child's movements, something that suggested he was clearly  
in touch with the Force and how to use it in combat, feeling  
instead of thinking about his strikes.

"Yes," Mace agreed. "A shame that he probably won't have the  
chance to realize it."

"Why is that?"

"His temperament. He likes to question authority a bit too much  
for any knight's comfort. Y'rel was bitching constantly about  
having him in her history class last semester, and he's always  
getting into trouble. Were it not for Master Yoda's insistence  
that there was still some hope for him, he would have been  
thrown out of the academy more times than I can recall." Windu  
shrugged. "Not that it matters now. His thirteenth birthday  
will be here before the next new moon and he'll be given an  
agricorps assignment...not that I expect he'll stay there for  
very long."

So there was a defiant streak beneath that cool exterior? The  
Jedi Master was more intrigued. He'd been more than a handful  
himself, back in his youth. Only Master Yoda had possessed the  
patience to deal with him...perhaps there was a kindred spirit  
here in this child worth investigating.

The fight continued, the bell chiming to announce the fourth  
minute had passed. Xanatos seemed perturbed that he hadn't  
soundly defeated his opponent yet, and began to use enhanced  
speed to lash out at his opponent. Not an illegal move, but not  
one most students his age would attempt. Despite the advantage  
enhanced speed granted, it was easier to misstep, send oneself  
flying into an opponent's blade instead of dodging it.

But Xanatos didn't slip. Instead, the Jedi caught the flash of  
the boy's boot as it caught Qui-Gon's, kicking out and sending  
the taller child falling from a platform about ten meters from  
the ground. Xanatos leapt down to meet him on the battle floor.  
Qui-Gon landed on his feet yet did not recover fast enough to  
block a strike of Xanatos' lightsaber to his right arm. Even  
though the beams were set at training level, the blow was  
strong enough to cause the boy to cry out and fall to his knees  
from the pain. Xanatos did not get time to launch in for a  
"fatal" blow, however, as the bell then chimed to mark the end  
of the fight just as Qui-Gon managed to get to his feet.

"Looks as if your Xanatos has won again," Mace said as the  
crowd began politely applauding and the winner was announced.

"So it seems," the Jedi master agreed, catching Xanatos'  
brilliant blue eyes meeting his, followed by a small smile of  
triumph. He nodded in acknowledgement, even as his attention  
lingered over the other child, who was standing straight  
despite the injury to his arm. His tunic's sleeve was singed  
through and there was the faint odor of burned flesh in the  
air, yet his face did not reveal the pain he was surely  
feeling.

After they left the stage, Qui-Gon met by a healer and quickly  
escorted off to the infirmary, the lights were lifted to signal  
the end of the afternoon's event. "Well, that was at least more  
interesting than the poetry recitals last week," Mace remarked,  
cringing at the memory. "So when are you leaving for Ancona?"

"Not until the day after tomorrow. I still have some research  
to finish before I go."

"Then you could be persuaded to join me for the evening meal  
tonight, Ben?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled at the old nickname, and the invitation  
beyond dining that lay in his friend's voice. "I don't need  
much persuasion to join you, Mace, you know that. In three  
hours time?"

"My quarters," Windu agreed, stealing a brush of his hand  
against the other man's thigh before standing.

Yes, it would be nice to catch up on old times, the Jedi Master  
thought to himself as he left the arena. Though first, he had  
some other matters to investigate.

* * *

The infirmary was quiet, save the few children suffering minor  
injuries and bruises from the afternoon's exhibition. Obi-Wan  
found the boy Qui-Gon in one of the treatment rooms, a med-tech  
droid tending to the burn on his right arm. Qui-Gon glanced up  
at Obi-Wan's approach, his eyes going wide with surprise for a  
moment before regaining his composure and bowing his head in  
respect for his superior.

"Hello there. How are you feeling?" the Jedi asked.

"Fine, Master Kenobi. It was only a minor injury."

He didn't know the boy, but apparently the boy knew him.  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I wanted to tell you that I found your  
performance this afternoon quite impressive."

Again, surprise filled the deep blue eyes, but his voice  
remained cool and cautious. "Thank you, Master, although I must  
say your compliment confuses me. I lost the match."

"True, but that does not diminish the skill you exhibited. You  
made a few mistakes anyone your age would make-- and with your  
height and build." Obi-Wan was not particularly tall, but he  
recalled the awkwardness of his youth, when his body seemed to  
be growing faster than his sense of himself could adjust to.  
"When I was younger I was always tripping over my feet--do you  
know what the other children called me?"

"No, Master."

"Oafy-Wan. I much preferred the nickname 'Ben' but only my best  
friends ever listened to me regarding that fact."

They shared a smile. Qui-Gon remarked, "Everyone's always  
asking me how the weather is up here, or if I have to duck to  
avoid passing transports."

"It's hard to be different when you're young," Obi-Wan agreed.  
"But when you're older, you'll find your size will put you at  
quite an advantage against your opponents. Further training,  
and time, and you'll learn how to avoid the mistakes you made  
today."

The child's smile faded at that. "I do not believe I'll have  
the opportunity for that, Master."

"So I've heard. Considered a bit of a trouble-maker, are you,  
Qui-Gon Jinn?"

A slight shrug was his answer. "I suppose. I just..." he  
trailed off, biting his lip.

"Go on," Obi-Wan encouraged.

Qui-Gon looked at him uncertainly, then apparently decided he  
had nothing to lose at this point by talking. Obi-Wan could  
practically hear the boy's thoughts-- _I'm not going to find a  
master now anyway, so why not speak my mind?_

"I just don't always understand the rules we're supposed to  
follow, and why they're so important, Master. I know the Dark  
Side is bad, and that these rules are supposed to keep us from  
turning that way...but I don't always understand **why,**  
and I want to know that. And the teachers always seem to get  
mad at me for questioning things so much. They say I shouldn't  
question the Code like I do, that I should just accept it. But  
it's hard for me to follow something I don't  
understand...especially when I get the feeling maybe the  
teachers and other masters don't understand it, either. They  
just follow it 'cause that's what **they** were told to do."

Obi-Wan remembered when he was younger, how there was so much  
about the Code he had not understood, either. "Understanding  
comes with time, Qui-Gon, and experience." He sat down in a  
chair near the child's bed and added, "The Code has existed for  
so long, you're right, most Jedi never question why we must  
follow it. We simply accept the wisdom of those who came before  
us and who established the Code in darker times."

"But time changes things," Qui-Gon argued, his eyes lighting up  
as he warmed to his subject. "The universe isn't like it was  
thousands of years ago. Perhaps the Code needs to reflect those  
changes."

"Or, perhaps the Code does not change because it is timeless,"  
Obi-Wan argued back. "The universe may change, but does the  
Force?"

"I don't know..." Qui-Gon wondered, frowning slightly as he  
concentrated on the subject. "But I think it has to," he  
decided. "The Force is a living thing, isn't it? And living  
things all evolve with time. Why shouldn't the Force? Why  
should we put all our faith in rules set up in the distant  
past, so much so that we ignore what we see in the present?"

"That's a good question, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan told him.

"Really? When I asked Master Y'rel that she just looked at me  
really funny and made me write the Code on the scriptboards 100  
times."

Obi-Wan chuckled at that, then sat quietly for a moment,  
studying the boy who was distracted as the droid began  
bandaging his arm. The Jedi knight was sure of it--he felt  
 **something,** some stirring in the Force drawing him toward  
this child. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling,  
trying to follow it and what it was telling him. The answer  
came in a series of images, flashes of a possible future, much  
clearer and brighter than the images he saw when he tried to  
look into a future with Xanatos at his side.

 _Yes,_ he thought to himself, coming to a decision and  
finding a sense of peace filling him that had been missing  
inside him for years.

Opening his eyes, he stood, touching the top of the boy's head  
lightly as he said, "Well, I should leave you to rest, young  
man, instead of arguing philosophy with you."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I...it was nice to talk to you."

"Then perhaps we will continue this discussion some other  
time." Obi-Wan headed for the door, then paused to turn back to  
the child. "Oh, and if you are feeling up for it tomorrow,  
might you be interested in joining me in the practice rooms  
after your classes? I could show you a few maneuvers that ought  
to help you in your next fight. I think you'll find you're  
mistaken about what opportunities lie ahead for you, Qui-Gon  
Jinn. "

Surprise, then hopeful excitement surged through the Force,  
through the first tendrils of the bond reaching out and growing  
between the knight and the child. Obi-Wan sent back  
affirmation, and the boy smiled broadly. "Yes, Master. I would  
like that very much."

Obi-Wan left then, to find Yoda and tell his former master the  
good news.

  



End file.
